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Back Anne of Greenville Save as PDF
Chapters (31)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright
  3. Dedication
  4. NOTE FROM THE PUBLISHER
  5. ONE
  6. TWO
  7. THREE
  8. FOUR
  9. FIVE
  10. SIX
  11. SEVEN
  12. EIGHT
  13. NINE
  14. TEN
  15. ELEVEN
  16. TWELVE
  17. THIRTEEN
  18. FOURTEEN
  19. FIFTEEN
  20. SIXTEEN
  21. SEVENTEEN
  22. EIGHTEEN
  23. NINETEEN
  24. TWENTY
  25. TWENTY-ONE
  26. TWENTY-TWO
  27. TWENTY-THREE
  28. TWENTY-FOUR
  29. TWENTY-FIVE
  30. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  31. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

On the left and right of us, kids relished slamming their lockers as loudly as possible.

“Big game tonight,” Berry added.

“Yeah,” I said, my head in my locker. “Look. I kind of gotta get out of here. Like now.”

Groups of kids were gathering outside, stripes of green swiped across their cheeks, green foam hats and fingers. Homemade flags with dragons.

I slammed my locker shut, turned down the hallway.

“DON’T! COME! FOR US!” they chanted. “WE! WILL! DESTROY YOU!”

I ducked under the noise and picked up my pace. It wasn’t even a decent chant.

Berry followed me, her skateboard tucked under her arm. “So. What are you going to listen to? Like on your way home?”

I scrolled through my phone. “I think I’m going to start with ‘Turn the Beat Around.’ ”

“Vicki Sue Robinson.” Berry nodded. “Good song.”

As I pulled my skates on by the edge of the parking lot, I watched Berry drop her skateboard and put her foot, which today for the first time was sneaker clad, on the deck.

“It’s really cool that you know all this stuff. About disco.”

“My dad.” Berry smiled. “He taught me how to skateboard, too. The full education.”

“My mom Lucy taught me,” I said. “How to skate and everything else.”

“It’s a good skill set. . .to have,” Berry offered. “For surviving in Greenville.” She hopped on her board. “I can follow you out. Okay?”

“Sure.”

Standing on my skates, for the first time since I’d taken them off that morning, I felt a little bit me. Popping my headphones in, I pressed play on my phone, leaned my head back, and let the drums and violins ring through my body. We rode for a block together, Berry on her skateboard rolling over the asphalt like a surfer, her body calm and steady, hand in pocket, her hair sticking up in a big green sprig like a happy green onion.

The whoops and hollers of Greenville High got smaller and smaller with every pump of my skates.

And the music took over.

At some point, Berry curved left and waved as she disappeared down the road.

I turned right and picked up speed.

A full person again.

It was a crappy day, but at least it was over. And if anything, at least one other person got that being in Greenville, right now, was surviving.

SEVEN

Berry waited for a full week of the white shirt to ask me about it.

To be fair, it was probably starting to look weird. Because it was the same shirt and pants every day for eight consecutive school days. Or maybe that’s just weird to me.